


I don't enjoy being bad at things that are important to me

by Inon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dry Sex, First Time, Grinding, Kissing, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, humping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inon/pseuds/Inon
Summary: Complete and utter unedited porn. Urgh. I am not sorry.





	1. Chapter 1

Most interactions with Sherlock were dramatic, so John was not shocked when the consulting detective had shoved his blogger against the wall following their first kiss and proceeded to snog him senseless. 

Blissfully passive, John allowed Sherlock's inexperienced hands to wander and grab as much as they liked. The kissing was sloppy and a little bit funny, but John hummed and let his head drop back against the wall. Sherlock took the oppertunity to plant his mouth on the older man's neck, sucking in a way that was down right arousing. Ah, here we go...John let out a sigh as his cock started to take some interest. 

"Mm Sherlock...Just a minute." He slid his hand from Sherlocks temporal bone to his mandible, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of the man's chin. Sherlock did not seem to like his face being touched and pulled away with an unhappy expression. The mood changed instantly. 

"Hey...I just wanted to make sure that we're on the same page for a moment." John smiled softly, his cheeks flushed from their activities. "I told you that I love you. And, well I'm hoping that all /this/ means that you feel the same?"   
Sherlock's lips had swollen already to a deep red. He swallowed, cleared his throat and seemed to be.....embarrassed? 

"Obviously." He looked away. Although his feet were still firmly planted on the floor, he had the look of a man who wanted to run. John had seen that look many times before. 

"Have I done something wrong?" John asked incredulously.

"I'll put the kettle on."   
And with that, Sherlock sauntered to the kitchen, leaving a very confused Dr. Watson. 

 

John fluffed up his pillow and sat down in his chair. The springs were getting a little too prominent against his arse but he couldn't bring himself to replace it. The hushing of the kettle filled the room. John opened his laptop and started to read the latest comments on his last blog entry But his mind was entirely on Sherlock, who had disappeared into his bedroom. 

When the kettle clicked, John stopped reading, listening for the sound of Sherlock's door reopening, but it didn't. After a minute John put his laptop aside and tapped on the door.   
"When you said you'd put the kettle on...I thought that maybe you'd be making tea. Silly of me really..."   
He could hear Sherlock's snort from the other side of the door and then...silence.   
"I'll make it if you'll come out." John chimed.   
Still silence.   
Right. He was losing his patience now.  
"Sherlock, get out here please." He said sternly, folding his arms.   
He heard some shuffling and finally the door swung open.   
"What?" Sherlock asked gruffly, twitching his eyebrows and crossing his arms like the shorter man in front of him.   
"What are you doing in there?"   
"Reading."   
"We were kissing...You just told me that you love me too, maybe. I don't really know because you haven't explicitly told me...And now you're running away."   
"I'm not running away." Sherlock scowled. "I'm in my bedroom. Reading."   
"Not a brilliant bloody time for war and peace."   
Sherlock quirked a smile but it quickly subsided. "Just let me think for a while." He said, rather calmly.   
John nodded. Maybe he hadn't been entirely fair, springing this on Sherlock the way he did, the post case adrenaline rush had gotten to him. He couldn't blame Sherlock for wanting some time to process everything. The door shut again, softly. John made himself a cup of tea and returned to his chair.


	2. Chapter 2

John's phone vibrated in his pocket. 

Hello. SH 

Lazy bloody basterd, texting from 4 metres away...  
John decided to humour him anyway. 

Hello. Finished reading? JW 

There's too much to read. SH

What are you reading? It's not really war and peace is it? That would surprise me. JW

You're easy to surprise. SH 

I wasn't surprised when you kissed me. JW 

John exhaled and dropped his phone into his crotch when he received no reply for a full minute. 

No? SH 

No. But it was still fantastic. You are fantastic. JW 

I was bad at it. I was bad at kissing. Your micro expressions told me. SH 

My pupils must have been the size of the moon. You didn't notice that? JW 

Yes I noticed. Of course I noticed. I notice everything. You're aroused by bad kissing. SH 

No. I'm aroused by you. JW 

John grinned to himself. There was another long wait for the reply. 

You're an idiot. SH

Oh. Well that was unexpected. But Sherlock Holmes was never simple, and he had always been a bit of a dick, John had learnt to be less sensitive about it a long time ago. 

And that's when the bedroom door opened. 

John turned his head. " I was being nice, that was a little unnecess.-"  
"-I love you too." Sherlock said clearly, pausing a few steps behind John's chair. 

Hearing those words...with that voice, coming out of that mouth...it sent waves of excitement down John's spine.   
Sherlock leaned down and pressed his lips against John's, gently, tenderly and refined. He pulled away after a moment with a satisfied grin. John was gobsmacked.  
" How did you..."

"I told you I've been reading. I don't enjoy being bad at things that are important to me John." 

Sherlock took John's face in between his hands and kissed him again, deeper this time, sliding his tongue along the seam of John's lips and teasing his way into his mouth. 

John groaned, his fingers reaching up for purchase on Sherlock's white shirt collar. 

Before he knew it, there was a six foot detective in his lap, leaning against his chest and kissing him passionately. Every time Sherlock rocked forward it put an exquisite pressure on John's groin and after about a minute he was hard, bulging against the fabric of his right leg.

The grinding stopped but Sherlock moved his kisses to John's neck. John was pleased to see an equally hard bulge in his flatmate's pleated trousers. 

"God...you're brilliant...beautiful...look at you." John smiled, soothing his left hand along Sherlock's chest and abdomen.   
"Touch my cock." Sherlock panted, looking down at John with heavy lidded eyes. 

John was slightly too shocked to speak or do anything, but his hand was soon plucked up and pressed against his flatmate's very warm crotch. Through this trousers, John managed to curl his fingers partially around the circumference of Sherlock's erection. Almost silently, Sherlock spluttered and ground up into the touch, after a cheeky squeeze he grunted and the front of his trousers seeped with wetness. And holy fuck if that not the hottest thing John had ever seen. 

John unzipped his trousers and pushed his hand inside, rubbing for a few moments, his eyes focussed on the wet patch still blossoming over Sherlock's crotch. John pulled Sherlock by the nape until they were against each other again and he jacked himself until completion with a shuddering groan. 

"Fuck!" He exclaimed after catching his breath. " Fuck that was nice." 

"I look like I've pissed myself." Was Sherlock's reply, his hand moving down to cover the large dark stain. "This part was supposed to last 3-4 minutes and neither of us were supposed to ejaculate yet." He frowned. 

John giggled and pulled him in for another kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complete and utter unedited porn. Urgh. I am not sorry.

"Short-shorts in soho? You do realise that sounds like a pornographic title." Sherlock scowled, scrolling vigorously on John's laptop. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and another around his shoulders.

"Don't you dare edit it again." John called from the kitchen. "It's funny. People like it." He picked the tea bags out with his fingers and brought the mugs into the living room. "How's your blog going by the way?" He teased. 

"The kind of people who read your blog are the kind who watch reality TV." 

"You read my blog Sherlock." He nodded across at the television. "And I've caught you watching Britains next top model." 

"I was changing the channels." 

"Of course you were." John bit his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling and sat down. "Come on then. What's got you in this bad mood?" He sighed, spreading his knees wider, trying to get comfortable in his damned chair. 

"I'm not in a bad mood, I'm in a good mood." Sherlock told him flatly. 

"What's got you in a good mood then?" John raised his eyebrows and drank his tea. 

"Mycroft has chicken pox. He looks uglier than usual. He's being quarantined at the family home." 

"And you're pleased about this." John stated.

"Naturally." 

John frowned against the rim of his cup. 

Last night, after the dry humping Sherlock had distanced himself again, retiring to his bedroom with no extended invitation. It felt like they were constantly taking five steps forward and one step back. It was a bit confusing, there was none of the typical progression he'd experienced in his past relationships. 

"Stop thinking." Sherlock sighed, not lifting his eyes from John's laptop screen. 

John felt an all consuming, protective urge whenever his eyes lingered on Sherlock for more than a moment. It warmed his gut and seemed to cry out that he needed to be closer. But Sherlock seemed so immaculate and untouchable most of the time. This game of hot and cold was taking its toll. 

"What do you want?" Sherlock peaked up, softer than his usual gaze.

John smiled with no attempt to elaborate. 

Sherlock smiled almost bashfully before smirking. 

John laughed and so did Sherlock. It was a tense laughter. 

John stood up and crossed the sitting room, threading his fingers through the curls of His flatmate's damp hair, lifting Sherlock's head. He pressed their lips together and Sherlock closed the lid of John's laptop. The younger man's bare chest moved up and down heavily. When John began to move away he was pulled back by long fingers, latching onto his biceps. 

"Sherlock...My shoulder." He sighed. 

Understanding immediately, Sherlock released his grip and stood, eyes moving towards the direction of his bedroom. 

Yes, John told him silently and palmed his friend's flat abdomen, pushing him. 

When they were on Sherlock's bed, it seemed so natural for John to collapse onto his back, he let Sherlock crawl into the space between his open legs and wrapped his arms around him. The younger man's skin was so warm and exposed, John felt wrong to be so heavily clothed. He began to shrug out of his shirt, fingers working at the buttons , taking a deep breath when he was finally chest to chest with Sherlock, who had now lost the towel that had been around his shoulders. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, breathing against each other and ravelling in the wholesome skin contact. 

It was Sherlock who progressed the activity by unbuttoning John's trousers and pulling them down, along with his pants. 

They were still so close, John didn't feel naked at all. Neither of them were hard, but they were both desperate to be closer. John clutched Sherlock's back, holding them tightly together, eliciting a satisfied groan from Sherlock. 

John slipped a hand under the towel around Sherlock's waist and cupped the heavy, damp package, his finger tips gently folding into the back of Sherlock's testes.   
Sherlock's head dropped against John's chest. 

"I've got you." John hummed gruffly, pulling his fingers forward with only a slight pressure, rolling over Sherlock's balls and the underside of his cock, letting the covered glans press into his palm. 

It fit easily into his hand, it felt good to be able to cover and hold it entirely for himself. Sherlock was breathing heavily, shoulder blades prominent and lower back tensed. 

"Can I put it in my mouth?" John whispered. He felt Sherlock nod against his pectorals.   
John gently pushed Sherlock to the side and climbed on top of him. He grinned, loving the way his flat mates eyes followed him as he shucked lower. He unfolded the towel and took a moment to blatantly stare. 

Sherlock's pubic hair was sparse, dark and curly, framing a small cock that curved up and to the left. The foreskin had peeled back to reveal the most tempting, sensitive pink peak of Sherlock's glans. 

John clenched his stomach muscles and saw his cock actively jump. Sherlock, who had been watching, laughed and lowered his own hand down to cup himself and squeeze, rolling his hips up into the action. 

John took the hint and pushed Sherlock's hand away as his mouth descended onto his prick. He quickly tightened his lips around the base and sucked gently a few times before sliding his lips back up to the narrowing tip and flared glans beneath the foreskin. The simply journey from root to tip left Sherlock far more engorged and a lot firmer in John's mouth. He lapped his tongue in circles, not discouraged by Sherlock's squirming silence. 

John's own cock was leaking empathetically against the sheets. Sherlock's hands found his head and gripped for dear life, trying to push John further, or telling him to suck harder...John didn't know. He pushed his head back against Sherlock's resistance and let Sherlock's cock slip out of his mouth but quickly took it into his hand. Sherlock let out small sounds and his cock squelched In the otherwise silent room. 

"It feels good yeah?..." John swallowed, pumping Sherlock lightly and quickly between his thumb and three fingers.  
"Yes...like that...there we go.." John croaked, lifting his torso up off the bed and rubbing firmly into the mattress as his hand moved on Sherlock. 

"Ah!" Sherlock seized up and ejaculated in a wet burst over his stomach, slipping through John's fingers. John swore repetitively, dragging himself further up the bed to rut himself against Sherlock's inner knee until he came with a thick, globular couple of spurts. 

John felt utterly wrecked. He lowered himself onto Sherlock's body as he caught his breath back. 

"We should do this often." Sherlock broke the silence with his voice, deeper than usual.

John winced up at him before dropping his head down again. 

"...Yeah. Yeah we should."


End file.
